


Truth Part 7

by The_Word_Witch



Series: Truth [8]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes-centric, Caring, F/M, Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Romance, Soft Bucky, The Avengers - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Vulnerability, caring bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 19:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Word_Witch/pseuds/The_Word_Witch
Summary: Request:What’s up sug! sorry you’re struggling right now but I’ve come to help you If you could bring this to light for me I’d absolutely love for YOU TO DO JT So basically Bucky X Enhanced reader who are fuckin enemies. Hate each other to every last fiber of their beings bc Bucky is rude and she calls him out on it. AnywHs, they get drunk, truth or dare (go crZy baby) and LOTS LF dirty talk if u wanna do smut but if u don’t then buck taking care of her while she’s drunk cause she admitted her feelingsPairing:Bucky X Reader (Enhanced)Summary:Since The Avengers gave you a home the only blight has been Bucky Barnes, a ghost from your past that you can’t seem to shake. It makes you hate him. The feeling, it seems, is mutual. But… a simple game reveals that maybe things aren’t quite so simple. (Post Winter Soldier AU)





	Truth Part 7

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Honestly, this is, and I’m not lying, kind of FLUFFY WHAT?!
> 
> A/N:  
> These two. I just… wow. I really like them ok? Also, I like thinking about fun quirks or hobbies Bucky may find himself being drawn to after everything. Little frivolous things that bring some happiness into his life and space.
> 
> I just hope y’all enjoy these tender moments.

Even though the elevator ride to his apartment is short you’re already dozing a bit in his arms. Your face half buried in his chest, softly breathing, though your expression is far from relaxed.

Once inside he gently sets you on the couch, laying your head on a throw pillow and tucking the thick blanket around you. In just a week you’d lost mass, he could feel bones where he had been unable to feel or see them when you’d last been here.

Your power, he knew, meant you needed to stay well fed because it could drain your body, pulling from your own metabolism to keep running. From what he could tell it had been running for the past week.

You groan a little and reach for him. A sad smile rises on his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, doll,” he strokes your forehead pressing a kiss to the crease there, “just rest a second. Nothing is gonna get through me, you’re safe.” This seems to work as your forehead smooths a bit and your hand relaxes.

“Sargent Barnes,” Jarvis pipes up quietly once Bucky is in the kitchen. “I do not want to impose but I have noticed Ms. Y/L/N’s distress for days. She has not granted me permission to request any additional aid on her behalf.”

“Not shocking,” Bucky says looking over at you.

“I will continue to heed her wishes as long as her life is not in immediate risk. However, she is massively undernourished, if she goes another day without eating in her condition I will be forced to notify medical per my programming.”

“I understand, Jarvis. Thanks.”

“May I suggest a light soup and an electrolyte fortified beverage? I worry her system cannot handle much else.”

“Good call.” He opens the pantry to find a can of chicken noodle.

“That would be most excellent I believe. I will have one of the bots bring the beverage for her.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“Of course, sir.”

Bucky isn’t much of a cook but thankfully he can manage a can of soup. Just before it’s done Dum-E slips in quietly with a basket from the main kitchen with bottles of Pedialyte. He pats the weird bot on the head, always viewing it like a friendly dog more than a machine, and it lets itself out.

He brings the soup to the coffee table and gently tries to wake you.

“Y/N,” he shakes your shoulder gently, “I know you’re tired but I need you to wake up for just a few minutes.” Nothing. “Doll? Come on, wake up for me.” Another shake.

With a gasp, you shoot up, frantically looking around the room, tendrils of light snaking every which way under your skin. Bucky grabs your shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice is kind but stern, he needs you to hear him. “Look at _me_ , Y/N.” You do finally and the light comes on, he can feel you relax in his grip.

Moving a strand of hair from your face he says, “Sorry, I know you need sleep, but you’ve got to try and eat something.” Your head sort of falls to the side rather than turn to see the soup on the table behind Bucky, brows knit.

“You don’t have to eat much, just something. Ok?” You nod, eyes fluttering a bit. For a second he’s worried he’s going to have to feed you, worried you’re that far gone, but you pull your self together and reach for the bowl. He hands it to you and surprisingly you make it through half.

“I can’t,” you say handing it back.

“That's ok,” he takes it. “Here,” he hands you the Pedialyte standing to take your bowl to the kitchen. “Sip this.”

You smile a bit, “So bossy,” you say looking up at him. A genuine smile fills his face, you had said that the night you were together. He strokes the side of your face and heads into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, he sits at the end of the couch as you drink what you can. You set it down, shaking your head.

“Ok, let’s get you to bed.” You look up at him, terror on your face. “I’ll be with you. If you want me to be.”

“Please,” you say, your voice less hoarse than before. He nods and holds out a hand. You stand a little more steadily and make your way to his room.

He gives you a shirt and a pair of boxers to change into assuming you don’t want to sleep in your gym clothes. While you’re in the bathroom he changes too, into pajama bottoms and turns the bed down. When you come out he has to force himself to not gawk. For some reason, you look incredible in his shirt and boxers. He swallows hard.

“I guess this will make three pieces of clothing I need to get back to you,” you say, voice sounding steady. Good.

“I’ll send you an invoice,” he says taking a few steps toward you. Tenderly he caresses your arm, “Come on.”

In the bed, you immediately curl against him and he holds your right hand in his left pressing it to his chest.

He thinks you’re just about asleep when you say, “Bucky?”

“Yes, doll?”

“You meant it earlier right?” He doesn’t respond, “Your promise…”

His heart aches, “I did.”

“You’ll kill me, then.”

He won’t lie, “No.” You shoot up and stare at him, betrayal on your face. He’s unfazed and just cups your face in his right hand. “I’ll kill you if you’re about to lose control, I told you that the other night. But Hydra… anyone else… they won’t ever get close enough to you for it to matter.” His tone shifts cold and certain, “ _Ever.”_

You stare at him for a minute before that sinks in, just how much he means it, what exactly it means. That he would take on anything to protect you from becoming someone else weapon again, anything.

You nod and in a flash your lips are on his. His hand is still hovering in the air where your face had been before it slowly rests on the back of your head. He lets this go on longer than he should he knows, you need rest, but he can’t help how good it feels to feel your lips on his, to have you in his arms.

Eventually, you sit up, leaning against his chest, looking down into his face, “Thank you.”

[Reader]

Your head is throbbing and your mouth feels like a damn desert. Logically you knew you weren’t fully out of the woods. This bout of trauma wrecked you, body and soul. Even so, you feel more human than you had for days. It was a start.

Bucky’s warm presence behind you feels something like comfort. You can’t tell if he’s awake but you press even closer to him, the weight of his right arm across your torso grounding. Reacting to your movement his hand flexes, laying flat on your stomach, holding you tight against him.

“Hey there,” the warmth of his breath on the back of your ear sends tingles all over your body. He begins to lift his arm and move but you grab it, holding him in place, not ready for him to let go. Immediately he settles back down and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Ugh, your hair was filthy, not that he seems to mind.

“Hey,” you rasp, voice almost as cracked as your lips.

“Excuse me,” Jarvis intones. “I’m very sorry to intrude but I have an urgent message from Mr. Stark informing you both that you need to be in the conference room in two hours. I didn’t want to wake you.” Bless Jarvis.

“You can tell _Mr. Stark_ to go fuck himself,” Bucky snaps, his body tensing.

“Don’t tell him that Jarvis,” you sounded like a pack a day smoker.

“I had no intention to.”

You turn in Bucky’s arms to face him, “What the hell?”

His face is a mask of concern, “Whatever they need can wait. You’re not in any condition-“

“I can handle a conversation Bucky,” probably… “I mean… they gave us almost a week. That’s more than fair…”

“No.” His tone says there’s no argument here and your brows raise, “You need rest.”

Gently you move a few stray strands of hair from his face, “So do you,” the circles under his eyes were still dark.

He takes your hand in his and kisses your palm, “I’m ok, doll.”

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “we’re both far from ok. They deserve to know why.” He knows you’re right and sighs heavily before kissing your forehead.

“Ok.” He squeezes you tight before sitting up cross-legged on the bed.

As he leans forward you can’t help but ogle the way the muscles in his back move. If you weren’t so cotton-mouthed right now you’re not certain you wouldn’t be drooling. Sex drive had to be a good thing right?

Slowly, you sit up, not wanting to set the room spinning and kiss his back before laying your cheek on the warm flesh there. He hums a little, contented sound, reaching back to grab your hand.

“What if we have them come here?” His low voice vibrates through his torso.

“Here?”

“Yeah. Or your place. I just… if they wanna talk we can talk but they’re gonna come to you where you can be comfortable and…”

“I’m not in danger from them, Bucky.” The look on his face tells you he doesn’t trust that. It’s understandable, his concern. 

Before, in Hydra, your display with him would have been grounds to be wiped and iced. You sigh heavily, “My place is… not currently fit for other people…” That was putting it lightly. Five days of depression, no sleep, and fighting the storm in your head meant it was just as wrecked as you were.  


“They can come here, it’s fine,” he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Ok,” you pull away from him and run your fingers through your greasy hair. “I’ll head up and shower then-”

“No,” he says shaking his head, “you’re going to have some breakfast before you do anything.” You glance at the clock, it’s 12:30pm. “Brunch, whatever,” he says with a smile.

The thought of food makes your stomach growl, “Actually not going to fight you there.”

Bucky makes you simple eggs, dry toast, and water per Jarvis’ suggestion before getting in the shower himself. Surprising yourself, you manage to eat it all and don’t want to throw up. Progress. When he comes out, you’re loading the dishes into the washer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, drying his hair, looking better than he had any right in his navy henley and grey sweats.

“Wanted to feel useful,” you say with a shrug. He comes into the kitchen and pulls you to him, smelling like that tea tree shampoo and toothpaste. This whole thing is so weird. Maybe weird is ok though…

“Just shower here, I’m sure I’ve got something you can wear,” his lips press against the crown of your head. You nod against his chest, “You not fighting me is a strange change of pace,” his voice is tinged with humor.

You shrug, the side of your face still pressed to him. “Don’t want to face my apartment yet is all...”

His left-hand takes your chin and tilts your face up, “That’s ok.” The corners of his eyes crinkle a bit when he smiles, “You’re welcome here as long as you like. When you’re ready I can help you get your place up to code… if you want.”

A laugh bursts from you and his brows knit in concern. “A little over a week ago I was thinking of ways to kill you. Now…” Your laugh swallows the rest of that statement.

“Now maybe you’re glad you didn’t?” He asks with a smirk. You cup his face and rise up a bit on your toes to press a quick kiss on his lips.

“Maybe. Don’t push your luck though,” you say with a wink.

He shakes his head, smiling, “Go shower.”

Stepping back from him your hand rises to your chest, “Are you saying I’m dirty?!”

He laughs, “No. I’m saying, you’re greasy. But we could work on dirty later if you want.” A devious smile lights his face and his tongue flits across his bottom lip. 

You can’t help the huge smile that stretches it’s way across your own face and you playfully smack his chest as you walk past him, “Dick.”

Another laugh tumbles from him. You’re a few steps away when you feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back tight against his torso. His face is pressed against yours, his short beard tickling the skin on your cheek. You hold on to his forearms and lean into the embrace, letting the comforting feeling of him wash over you.

“I’ll put some clothes on the bed,” he says next to your ear, “and deal with Stark. Take your time.” With that, he kisses your cheek and releases you.

You sit on the bench in the shower and let the steam engulf you. The heat may relax some but for you it’s a boost, sending a low hum of energy thrumming through you, clearing your head. It’s a good thing too. There’s a feeling in your gut that this is going to be a fairly unpleasant conversation.

Sighing you stand, you’ve been in here long enough to be a touch pruney. Your muscles still ache from being tense with constant adrenaline for days and your legs shake just a bit but you’re miles ahead of where you were last night. It sinks in a bit just how close to the edge you were. If Bucky hadn’t come in… would you have lost it? And if you had…

Pushing the thought from your mind you shut the water off and reach for the plush towel. Your reflection in the mirror is, disheartening, to say the least. Hopefully, the hollowness in your cheeks and the purple under your eyes would tell enough of the story for you when everyone came in with their questions. You roughly dry your hair and find a hair tie in a drawer to toss it into a messy bun.

On the bed, Bucky has left you a pair of drawstring sweats and a hoodie, both in his favorite midnight blue color. They’re just big enough to be oversized but it’s so comfortable to be surrounded by warmth and his smell. Your eyes ache to close.

Bucky’s in the kitchen, setting out mugs and the smell of coffee fills the air. You were certain coffee wouldn’t be on Jarvis’ recommended list of nutrients for you at the moment but you’re feeling sleepier by the minute. If they want you to make it through this you’re going to need that boost.

“That smells like everything I need right now,” you hop onto one of the metal barstools by his island. He doesn’t question you and pours a large cup.

“How do you take it?”

“Black.” Your fingers curl around the mug he hands you, it has the Brooklyn bridge on the side, one of those things you find at gift shops all over the city. It’s now that you realize all the mugs are different.

Some like this one are souvenirs, a Broadway mug with comedy and tragedy masks, one from the Met with a Monet on the side. There are a few that look vintage, from the 70’s maybe. Others are novelty mugs. There’s one that looks like a camera lens, one says “Get Shit Done” on the side, another is shaped like a donut. You can’t help but smile.

He notices you looking, “I… uh, like mugs I guess.” Awkwardly he runs a hand through his hair. “Figured coffee would be good. My… my ma always made coffee when people came over…”

Your heart may actually burst. “You’re cute,” you say sipping what is actually an exceptional cup of coffee. He snorts and pours his own cup, this one with “Rocket Fuel” on the side and the NASA logo.

“Come on,” he heads into the living room. You hadn’t noticed he’d pulled his dining room chairs in here to accommodate the others. “There’s still a bit before they get here.”

Plopping onto the couch he hits play on the remote sitting on the side table, old jazz fills the space. Unsure where to sit you stand awkwardly between the kitchen and living room weighing your options.

“Psst,” he quips from the couch, you meet his gaze. A smile fills his face and beckons with his left hand. You take a tentative step in his direction, “The big chairs are comfortable too if-”

“No,” you say as you set your mug on the coffee table and sit next to him. His left arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close. You lay your head against his chest and immediately feel your body relax. “This is perfect.”


End file.
